


i was worn out and jaded from trying on people to love

by wafflesofdoom



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29515215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflesofdoom/pseuds/wafflesofdoom
Summary: buck just wanted to matter – to someone, anyone. to his parents. always to his parents. that had been an uphill battle buck didn't know he had to fight, and he was tired of fighting, for love, for attention, for someone to notice him.except - the 118 noticed. and they kept noticing.or - the family buck built for himself support him in the immediate aftermath of the factory fire. coda to 4x05.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Maddie Buckley, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 35
Kudos: 512
Collections: 9-1-1 Tales





	i was worn out and jaded from trying on people to love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thisissirius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/gifts).



> tw for mentions of childhood cancer & death, and some slight suicidal ideation.
> 
> title from 'beginning, middle and end' by leah nobel.

As much as Maddie’s revelation of their dead brother was an Earth-shattering one – it was also one that somehow made the rest of his life make sense, for the first time.

Buck – he had never understood why his parents had been so disinterested in him, had never understood why neither of them ever seemed to want him around, why Maddie was the one to bandage his cuts and bruises, and teach him to ride a bike, and help him with his homework. His parents – they had only ever taken notice when Buck was hurt, or he’d done something he shouldn’t have, something worth grounding him over.

Or something to simply berate him about, when he got too old to be grounded – Buck was well versed in the art of keeping a perfectly neutral face as you stood in front of your parents and have them tell you that you were a disappointment, that you would never amount to anything in life, that you had no direction, no focus.

(Never let them know how much it really affects you – because Buck crying was just another reason for his parents to be disappointed by him.)

It had been hard, to have direction in his life, when his parents had been to content to let Buck raise himself – with Maddie’s help, until she’d left.

How was Buck supposed to have direction if he had parents who didn’t take any interest in him? Parents who didn’t take any interest in who he was becoming, the things enjoyed? Parents who didn’t encourage him to try new things, to find his niche in life? Buck had thought maybe they just found the things he liked boring, so he found new things to be interested in – and his parents had just ignored him the same way, no matter what book Buck read, no matter what Wikipedia page he would recite excitedly to them, no matter what sport he tried.

So he’d taken it a step further. Skateboarding, because the tricks freaked his mom out, and got her to pay attention, even if it was just to yell at him. Football, because it would earn him a rant from his dad about brain injuries and the game being too rough, and why could he not have just been a quiet boy who liked to read?

(Buck did – he liked to read. But reading meant that he would sit quietly, invisible to his parents, and he didn’t like that, the feeling of being invisible, staying out of their way. No – Buck had spent his childhood determined to be noticed, no matter the cost.)

He was nineteen, when he bought a motorbike, using some of his tuition money. Buck hadn’t ever been too convinced he was suited to going to college, but he’d gone because his parents, Maddie, had told him that he should. University of Pittsburgh, because his high school friends were going there.

Buck had lasted a year – almost a year. He’d been put on academic probation by the end of first semester, and by the end of the spring semester, he was in front of the dean of his college, not bothering to defend his own behaviour as she informed him that his lack of attendance, the fact he hadn’t submitted a single assignment since February, and the many, many, many behavioural citations he’d been given by campus security meant that the university would no longer allow him to enrol as a student.

That had been an argument for the ages. The only reason his parents hadn’t thrown him out was because Buck had agreed to enrol in community college. They’d refused to let him move out, move to Harrisburg to attend, because the commute wasn’t that long, and if he was home, they could at least keep an eye on him.

That had backfired, too. It was too easy, to stay out all night – to find someone to hook up with at a bar and have a good excuse not to drive home to their quaint suburban street in Hershey. Buck – he’d done better, there, lasted a full year, even got decent grades, hoping that maybe his parents would be proud of him for applying himself.

They hadn’t been, proud -

So, Buck had gone wild. He was good at that – he was good at drinking too much, and sleeping around, and spending all his money on parts for his motorcycle and kegs for anonymous parties where he didn’t know anyone but his antics would make him feel like the king of the world, even just for a few hours, and Buck had craved the adrenaline of it all, the rush of finally feeling as though someone, anyone, was noticing him. That was why he’d liked sex, so much, he supposed – because even if it was just for one night, someone wanted him, and Buck had grown to crave that intimacy, the feeling of a warm body against his own.

The motorcycle crash had been the final straw – for him, and probably for his parents, too, because Buck could see it in their eyes as his father had dressed him down in the hallway of their house in Hershey, his mother hysterical, as always (and Buck understood the hysteria, now, actually, now he knew about Daniel and how he’d died – he understood it, but he didn’t forgive it.)

He’d been born into the Buckley family with one sole purpose – to save Daniel’s life, and he hadn’t been able to do it. Buck wasn’t sure he wanted to know the reason – was he too young, when Daniel was getting sicker? He didn’t think you could take bone marrow from a new-born baby, and Maddie had said he was only a year old, when Daniel died.

Buck had heard of saviour children, before. He’d watched My Sister’s Keeper in high-school, just like everyone else – but he hadn’t fully believe that could be real, that people would really have a child, bring a new life into the world, for the sole purpose of saving another life. It was – it was twisted, Buck decided, to only have another child because their genetics could be a potential match and save your oldest son, the child you always loved more.

Buck’s life made sense, now – the absent parenting, the way he had always felt like an imposition in his own home, how his parents had looked at him like he was a disappointment for as long as he could remember. Buck was a disappointment – because he didn’t do the one thing he had been brought into this world to do, save his brother’s life.

Buck –

He understood unplanned pregnancies could happen. That was just life – some parents didn’t plan for a kid, but those parents still made the best of the situation, they still loved their kid for who they were, even if their existence hadn’t been part of the grand plan of their lives.

Buck’s parents couldn’t even do that – love him, despite Daniel, love him, despite having lost their other son. Love him, because that’s what you did – you loved children, because they were innocent, because they needed to be loved, and because that was what parents were for.

No, Buck had only ever been a grim reminder of a life lost, and in some ways – Buck was glad he knew, now, because at least his life made sense.

If he knew, he could deal with it.

“Defective parts, as it turned out,” Buck said, the joke sounding harsh, even to himself, Buck determinedly doing his best not to look any of his colleagues in the eyes as he spoke. He – he’d come to the fire station that morning, sure he wouldn’t breathe a word of what Maddie had told him the previous evening to anyone, but it had come rushing out as soon as he’d bounded upstairs.

Some sick, twisted part of him wanted people to know – wanted people to understand that he wasn’t the way he was out of choice; no, Buck was the way he was because of who his parents had created him to be. A saviour kid who couldn’t save their own brother. A failure, quite literally from the day he was born.

“Hey, that’s not on you,” Eddie’s concerned expression made Buck want to scream. Eddie really, truly believed what he was saying – believed that this, all of this, wasn’t on Buck, and Buck hated it, hated knowing that his best friend was sitting there, worried for Buck, angry on his behalf, angry as a father himself.

Buck didn’t want Eddie’s concern – or worry, or anger.

“I doubt they’d agree,” Buck replied simply, his smile as hollow as the cavern in his chest where his heart used to be was, not missing the looks exchanged between Eddie, Hen and Bobby at his words. They were uncomfortable, and a part of Buck was glad – glad that someone else, three someone elses, shared in his discomfort now, had to live with the knowledge that Buck was born for a purpose, not for love, not for the want of another child.

He didn’t want to be alone in this feeling.

“Have you talked to them about it?” the sincerity of Bobby’s question only made Buck feel a thousand times work. As if he could just talk to his parents about this, about anything. That wasn’t the kind of relationship Buck had with Philip and Margaret.

“What am I going to say?” Buck asked, leaning back against the half-wall behind him. “Hey, I’m really sorry about your dead son – but can we just talk about me, for a minute?” the words sounded bitterly sarcastic, even to his own ears, as he spoke, focused intently on the wall behind Hen’s head.

Bobby’s eyes were downcast, at his words.

“Daniel wasn’t their only son,” Hen countered. “You matter too, Buck.”

Did he?

That was the fundamental question, Buck supposed.

“Sure,” Buck glanced down at his hands, stomach churning. He’d never mattered, not really – not to anyone, least of al his parents. “Just – just not to them.”

“Sorry I’m late, Cap.”

Buck hated the burning anger that welled in his stomach as he heard Chimney’s greeting. Chimney, his teammate, his friend, the man he’d worked side by side with for close to four years, now – and the man who knew something so fundamental about Buck’s life, about how he was, long before Buck ever did.

A part of Buck hated him for it.

“Hey,” Chimney sounded unsure. “Can we talk? In private?”

“No need,” Buck gestured at their teammates. “Come on, they all heard the story.” Like Chimney had – like the fucking bomber had, before Buck was ever told that he had spent his life trying to live up to the memory of a dead child, a kid he was born to save and couldn’t.

Everyone had heard the story, it seemed.

“Look – I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Chimney shook his head. “Believe me, I wanted to….”

“I get it,” Buck interrupted, the lie acidic as it passed his lips. “Maddie put you in a tough spot.”

Maddie.

Maddie was the one person who was always supposed to be on his side – his sister, his best friend, the one person Buck had always been able to count on. That was how it worked – when Buck needed a knee bandaged, or a hug, he went to Maddie.

But she’d lied to him too.

“She does that,” the words were out of Buck’s mouth before he could stop himself, clapping Chimney on the shoulder before he walked away, heading for – well, he wasn’t quite sure, where, actually, all Buck knew was that he needed to get away from the pity, the concerned stares, the soothing words. Buck didn’t want any of that – he just wanted to do his job, the one thing he was good at, the one thing he had chosen for himself.

“You need to call her, Buck!” Chimney called after him.

Buck just about swallowed the childish urge to give his colleague the finger.

No, he didn’t need to do anything for anyone – not least of all a Buckley.

(“This is insane,” Hen slumped in her chair, watching as Buck bounded down the stairs toward the trucks. “Chim, this is insane.”

“I know,” Chimney rubbed a hand across his forehead, slumping into a chair. “When Maddie told me – I couldn’t believe it was true,” he admitted. “And when he found out….. I’ve never seen Maddie as upset as she was yesterday, never. He won’t answer her texts, or calls.”

“He needs time,” Hen’s voice was soft.

“Can you blame him?” Eddie’s brow was furrowed. “His entire world’s just been rocked to its core, Chim. He – he was a saviour kid. That’s insane.”

Hen looked angry, thumbing at the handle of her coffee mug. “That’s not why you have a kid,” she said determinedly, thinking of her own kids. “You don’t – you don’t have a kid for what they can offer to save someone else.”

“And you don’t resent them for it,” Bobby added quietly. “Losing a kid – I wouldn’t wish that on anyone,” he continued. “But if I’d had another kid, to love, I’d have never made them feel the way they made Buck feel.”

“They should have been grateful,” Hen agreed, reaching across the table to squeeze Bobby’s forearm, a familiar gesture of comfort. Bobby – he so rarely spoke about his kids, usually just a brief mention in passing, a comment to note that Robert had loved Halloween, or how Brook had always preferred chocolate ice-cream.

Eddie glanced toward the stairs. “How did he turn out the way he did? Even with all that.”

Chimney spoke for the first time in a few minutes. “Maddie,” he said simply. “And now she thinks he hates her.”

“He doesn’t,” Eddie said confidently. “Buck – he doesn’t hate anyone, Chimney, you know that as well as I do.”

Hen’s voice was sympathetic as she repeated her earlier words. “He just needs time,” she shrugged. “To grieve. To process it.”

“What can we do in the meantime?” Chimney sounded frustrated – on Maddie’s behalf, sure, but also because he loved Buck. Of course he loved Buck.

Bobby sighed, taking a sip of his now cold, bitter coffee. “Let him come to us when he’s ready.”)

It was hot.

It was so hot – and Buck figured he was used to heat, unbearable heat, now, because this wasn’t his first rodeo, and he’s fought fires, and he’d fought wildfires, and he’d been to five-alarm calls that have taken every last bit of energy, their ferocious heat zapping everything you had.

But this felt different.

This felt –

Hopeless.

Buck wasn’t naïve. He knew that life wasn’t easy – no matter the circumstances you were born into. But it felt like he had been on an uphill battle his entire life, fighting to live up to the memory of someone he hadn’t known existed, and everything he’d done, every way he’d lashed out, everything he’d done in a desperate attempt to have his ghosts of parents pay attention to him, the way he’d clung to the memory of the stability he had with Abby – it had drained him.

And Buck didn’t have anything left to give.

He was exhausted – and not just physically, though the heat of the fire felt like it was burning right down to his bones, the air thick with smoke, the overpowering smell of alcohol burning in his nostrils, slowly fading as the sprinkler system kicked in, drenching him completely.

Fighting an uphill battle – just like he still was, every muscle in his body screaming out as he tried to move the tanker from where it had fallen on Saleh, the damn thing not moving an inch. Buck – he couldn’t look at Saleh, at the kind eyes that had been keeping him company for however long they’d been trapped in the factory (because he really wasn’t sure), because if he looked, Buck would be back under the ladder truck, all that weight back on his leg and the only thing he’d ever done in his life that mattered being ripped away from him.

Buck just wanted to matter – to someone, anyone. To his parents. Always to his parents.

Because –

No matter how much they disappointed him, no matter the ways they had constantly let him down, had made him feel like shit, Buck, right up until that day, was still fighting to fucking impress them, to have them look him in the eyes and not be disappointed for once – disappointed the way they had been when Buck couldn’t get his maths grades up, or when he’d been suspended for fighting, the week Maddie left for college, or all the dozens of other ways Buck had never managed to live up to their expectations.

Expectations they’d set for Daniel.

Buck didn’t want to fight anymore.

He didn’t have any fight left.

The scream that was ripped from his throat as he collapsed to his knees felt absolutely feral, leaving his throat raw, and aching, as the tears began.

Buck couldn’t fight anymore.

He couldn’t fight every single day of his miserable fucking life anymore, fighting to be loved, to be noticed, to have someone give a shit if Evan Buckley made it to the end of the day or not.

He –

Buck had imagined, how his life might end. He didn’t intend for that to sound as morbid as it did – but he’d thought about it, of course he had. You don’t work in a career as dangerous as firefighting without considering it, and that was before you considered the sheer number of times Buck had stared death in the face and said fuck you.

Contrary to what everyone probably believed, Buck didn’t want to die in a blaze of glory. He didn’t want to go out a hero, to die in a fire trying to save someone elses life. No – Buck had thought about his life ending quietly, dying an old man, happy, surrounded by family. That was the fantasy, to die after a well-lived life.

But –

Maybe that wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

Buck had spent so much of his life being so determinedly reckless with his life, maybe this was how the universe was going to pay him back for it, by making sure he didn’t get to die old, to have him die like this, soaked to the bone with fire roaring around him, acrid smoke and ash settled in his lungs as Saleh took heaving breathes through Buck’s mask.

Maybe this was always how it was supposed to end.

The rope went slack in Buck’s hands as he collapsed to his knees, unable to hear Saleh, or his radio, over the rush of noise in his head, over his tears, choking sobs wracking his body as he cried desperately.

Maybe he was always supposed to die alone.

Buck felt the tension on the rope before he realised someone had arrived, twisting on his knees to see Eddie standing behind him – Eddie, Eddie, his best friend in the world, standing at Buck’s back and pulling on the rope with every bit of strength he had, Eddie’s face determined. Buck didn’t need Eddie to remove his mask to know Eddie’s jaw was set in a harsh line, the older man fully in work mode, focused on the task at hand in a way Buck couldn’t be.

And then there was Hen.

Hen.

Buck loved Hen more than he had words for. If he didn’t already have a sister, he’d say Hen was the sister he always wanted – kind, and funny, and warm, always willing to lend Buck an ear, a shoulder to cry on.

He was sorry he ever doubted her loyalty.

Chimney.

Chimney was practically lifting himself off the ground, as he pulled on the rope, working in perfect sync with Hen. Buck – he’d never imagined that he’d be as close to Chimney as he was now, given how the first rocky few months of their friendship had gone, but Chim was here, even after how cold and downright cold Buck had been to Maddie, the last few days.

And Bobby.

Buck would be the first to joke about how Bobby had become the station dad, but if he was being entirely honest with himself (and he could be, there and then, in the middle of a mental fucking breakdown) Bobby was everything he wanted in a father. Kind, and patient, even when Buck’s brain was working at a million miles an hour and he couldn’t stop it, always listening to what Buck had to say, even if he disagreed. He and Bobby had had their problems, over the years, but after the lawsuit, after that, he’d never had a reason to doubt Bobby’s faith in him.

He definitely didn’t now, Bobby dropping the rope as soon as Hen screamed that they’d pulled Saleh free, Bobby immediately at his side, hands under Buck’s armpits and hauling him off the ground.

“You’re okay, Buck,” Bobby’s words were simple as he shoved his own mask on Buck’s face, Buck breathing in filtered, clean air, his lungs burning with the realisation of how close he’d come to giving up, how close he’d come to giving in to the dirty air and the flames.

Buck wasn’t okay.

He wasn’t sure he ever would be again, actually – but he let Bobby and Eddie drag him from the building, tears still pouring down his cheeks.

He was so tired.

The cool metal of the ambulance floor was grounding, as Buck sat, oxygen mask on as Hen looked him over. The cold was a reminder of the fact he was still alive – somehow, unbelievably, he was still alive. Tugging the mask off, Buck ignored Hen’s pointed look.

“I got lost, Bobby,” and Buck didn’t mean in the factory, not really. He’d gotten lost in his own head, in his grief, lost in all of the twisted, tangled feelings he held in his heart about his parents, about Maddie, about who he was, who he had been born to be.

“Went off on my own,” he continued, the realisation that he hadn’t gone off into the depths of the factory out of a sense of duty to the final victim hitting him with the force of a freight train. No, Buck had gone into the bowels of that factory alone because old habits die hard – and if he was reckless enough, someone would notice him, would notice the pain and the hurt and the heartache and they would notice Evan Buckley, the boy who had lived his entire life in the shadow of a ghost. “Two seconds later, I didn’t know where the hell I was standing.”

“Buck, that place was a maze,” Bobby tried to reassure him.

“No one was surprised that you stayed in there, Buck,” Hen added, her brow furrowed as she spoke.

Buck wasn’t sure how to say his next words aloud without causing concern.

“I almost gave up,” Buck admitted, a deafening silence falling over the three of them – despite the sirens, despite the still roaring fire. It felt silent. “If you guys hadn’t come in….” he trailed off, not wanting to say the words.

(It would have been a recovery operation, Buck thought to himself – the 118 would have been walking into that factory to find a body.)

“But we did,” Hen was firm, as she picked up where Buck hadn’t had the strength to finish. “And we always will.”

They weren’t just talking about fires and rescues, Buck realised. Hen – she was talking about life, the rest of their lives, however many years that turned out to be.

Bobby simply hummed his agreement, his gaze intent as Buck let Hen’s words sink in.

He wasn’t sure what to say, really. How to thank Hen, and Bobby – how to be grateful, how to show them how grateful he was.

Buck felt like he was having an out of body experience, as he watched Saleh get wheeled into a waiting ambulance, the man giving Buck a grateful wave as he passed. He should feel accomplished, Buck realised – he should feel good, because he’d just saved a man’s life.

The problem was, Buck didn’t feel anything except emptiness.

“They said it was a big one,” Athena called, hands on hips as she approached the ambulance. “They weren’t kidding.”

“Firefighter Buckley here pulled out the very last victim,” Bobby’s pride sounded genuine, and as Buck listened to Athena’s reply, he couldn’t help but wonder how much Bobby had told her, about what was going on with Buck – about his parents, about how lost and confused Buck had been for days.

“Of course he did,” Athena didn’t sound the slightest bit surprised.

“Yeah,” Buck spat the words bitterly. “And everyone else had to pull me out.”

(Like the loser his parents had always reassured him he was.)

“I’m sure that whoever you saved,” Athena shook her head. “Was just glad you were being Buck.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Buck admitted, because he didn’t, not really – not ever, maybe. Who was Evan Buckley? A two time college drop-out? A former football star who peaked in high-school? Someone’s brother? The kid no one ever really wanted – only brought into the world for the bone marrow he could offer the son Philip and Margaret had really wanted. The boy who couldn’t save his own brother.

“You never give up,” Athena said, as if it were entirely obvious. “That’s what being Buck means to me.”

Buck didn’t trust himself to speak.

“Whatever you do,” Athena pleaded, brushing a hand against the thick material of Buck’s turnout coat, right about where his elbow should be. “Don’t stop.”

Buck couldn’t stop the barest hint of a smile that formed on his lips at Athena’s words.

“She’s right,” Bobby was at his side again. “You never do give up, Buck.”

“I almost did.”

“Almost,” Bobby hummed. “But you didn’t. Because you’re Buck.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Buck said, unable to hide the desperate brokenness in his voice now. Everyone kept saying that – that he was Buck, as though Buck was this memorable, recognisable person, but Buck didn’t know who the hell that was, anymore.

“You want to know what that means to me?” Bobby questioned, sitting down next to Buck on the edge of the ambulance. “It means you never give up – not on the people you love, not on strangers. Even if it hurts you, Buck, you don’t give up. You give everything you have to the people around you – for better, or worse. Being Buck – it means being a hero.”

“I’m no hero, Bobby.”

“You are,” Bobby wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders. “You’re a hero. You’re a firefighter, you’re a teammate – and you’re a damn good friend, Evan Buckley. You are one of the greatest people I know, and it’s been a privilege to watch you grow up these last few years.”

Buck didn’t want to cry at a scene – really, he didn’t. There were other firehouses here that didn’t need to know his insane personal drama.

Bobby’s voice was quiet as he put Buck’s oxygen mask back on. “You’re one of the most important people in my life too, Buck.”

(“He needs to get checked out at a hospital,” Hen shook her head. “Just to be sure.”

“He’s just – he’s just sitting there,” Chimney signed, glancing toward the locker room. “He’s basically fucking catatonic, Bobby.”

“I’ve got it,” Eddie said confidently, passing Chimney his turnout coat. “I’ve got him.”)

Buck felt hands on his knees before he realised there was someone in front of him. “Eddie?”

Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. _Eddie_.

“Yeah, Buck,” Eddie’s voice was soft, his eyes kind, and expressive as he looked at Buck, crouched in front of the bench that Buck was pretty sure he was glued to, actually. “I’m here.”

“Okay.”

“Are you? Okay I mean.”

“Dirty,” Buck admitted quietly, the word taking an enormous amount of effort. “Hot.”

“You’re still in your turnout gear,” Eddie said, almost by way of explanation. “How about a shower?”

“I can’t,” Buck shook his head, the thought of getting into the shower making his entire brain feel on the verge of exploding. He wasn’t sure he could go through the motions of it, however simple.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie reassured, and before Buck could protest, Eddie was heaving him up off the bench, Buck’s legs unstable as Eddie mostly carried him to the showers. Eddie was already out of his turnouts, Buck realised as his best friend propped him up against the tiled wall, focused as he stripped Buck’s turnout coat off, first, familiar hands unhooking the suspenders and pushing Buck’s heavy turnout trousers and boots off next.

“Eddie,” he almost whined, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie repeated, a bit more forcefully this time, tugging at Buck’s t-shirt, throwing it onto the growing pile of clothes, moving onto Buck’s work trousers.

A joke about how this isn’t how Buck imagined Eddie undressing him stuck in his throat – because, well, this wouldn’t be the first time. Eddie had been the one to force Buck into a shower after the bombing, after his leg, clinical in how he’d washed Buck’s hair for him, quiet in his constant support. Buck had been more forceful, the night he’d forced Eddie into the shower after he’d saved Hayden, Eddie tiredly clinging to Buck as they’d started off with lukewarm water, Buck inching the dial hotter every few minutes, holding Eddie under the shower as he’d slowly warmed up.

This was just what they did for each other, Eddie reminded as he guided Buck under the spray, Buck unable to stop shaking as Eddie let go, his legs giving out from underneath him.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie repeated, his work shirt plastered to his body as he caught Buck, holding him upright.

It felt like a dam was breaking, in Buck, and he was helpless to do anything except tuck his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck as he cried, hysterical sobs being ripped from his chest with a force that would knock him flat if Eddie wasn’t holding the two of them up, ash and dirt swirling down the drain as the hot spray hit Buck’s skin.

This was what they did for each other, Buck tried to remind himself as embarrassment clawed at his throat. Eddie had seen him at his worst – and vice versa – and that was just how it worked, that was how it worked.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie was saying the words like a mantra now, a promise of something Buck wasn’t sure he was ready for. “I’ve got you, Buck, just let it out.”

Buck clung to Eddie a little tighter.

This was just what they did for each other.

 **Eddie**.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

 _This was what they did_.

“I’ve got you, Buck.”

(“What the hell are they doing here?”

Hen turned around at Eddie’s words, raising an eyebrow. “Eddie, keep your cool.”

“I am,” Eddie practically growled. “I haven’t punched either of them yet, have I?”

“Eddie,” Hen’s tone was a warning one. “You’ve come too far to be that guy again.”

Eddie sighed, counting backward from ten under his breath. “They don’t deserve his forgiveness,” he shook his head. “They don’t deserve it, and you and I both know he’s going to give it, and it makes me so angry, Hen.”

“At Buck?”

“At them,” Eddie clarified. “Because he is more than they ever deserved, and I don’t want them to be forgiven. I know it’s wrong – but I want them to have to live with the guilt of what they did to him for the rest of their lives.”

“Me too,” Hen agreed. “We’re parents too, me and you Eddie – and the same way I would for Denny and Nia, you’d walk through fire for Chris.”

“But we’re still going to let them sit here and wait for Buck to get back?”

“Yeah,” Hen sighed. “But what’s stopping us from telling them exactly the kind of man their son is?”

Eddie couldn’t help but smile. “Nothing, I suppose,” he hummed. “Bobby said they’ll be a while; with all the COVID patients, the ED is short-staffed.”

Hen beamed, nudging Eddie with her elbow. “I’ll find the rest of the crew, then.”

Eddie nodded. “I might still try and poison their tea.”

“Oh, Eddie,” Hen clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll hold that same grudge against them right with you for the rest of my damn life, don’t you worry.”

Eddie sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But we’ve got to let Buck do what he thinks is best and forgive them.”

“Ten points to you, Diaz.”)

Buck couldn’t help but laugh as Eddie spoke.

“Show-off,” Eddie grinned, shaking his head. Buck knew what he meant – the team joked, about Buck’s luck, sometimes, because he’s nearly always come out the other side of one of his more reckless stunts with a clean bill of health. Buck was always lucky – until he wasn’t, and then it was always pretty bad, when his luck did run out.

“I had to do it,” Buck admitted.

Eddie’s expression was understanding. “I know you did,” he said softly, because of course he knew – the same way Buck had understood why Eddie had cut his line, when he was rescuing Hayden, because Buck would have done the same thing. Their love for each other, their need for each other – it was never a barrier to their desire to rescue others.

Buck knew Eddie would always understand the risks that he took to save lives. Eddie might not always like them – but he’d understand.

Buck was grateful for that.

“You’ve got visitors,” Eddie continued, and Buck glanced toward the kitchen, his heart thundering in his chest as he realised what that meant.

Eddie would give him an out, Buck knew – Eddie would hide him, drive him home, sneak him out of the fire station, if he asked, and a part of Buck wanted to ask, wanted to escape a conversation with his parents when he felt this hollowed out, like someone had scooped out his very being and left him a shell of a person.

But –

Another part of Buck was ready for it to be over.

“Uh, hi,” Buck couldn’t keep the shake out of his voice as he greeted his parents. “I hope you weren’t waiting alone.”

His father looked nervous – which was a rarity in itself. Philip Buckley was a confident man – sure, and steady, and entirely unemotional. That’s how Buck knew him.

“Uh, no, the other firefighters were very kind,” his dad reassured, standing next to his mom – like a guardian, as always. Buck used to think that was just his father’s dedication to his marriage, to his mom – but he realised now a lot of it was to do with Daniel. His mom was always the one who was more hysterical, about Buck’s behaviour.

His father had just been distant.

“We got to hear a lot of stories about you,” his dad continued.

“They seem to like you a great deal,” his mom said, her smile looking oddly sincere. Buck was used to the forced, fake smiles that his mom usually relied on to portray to the outside world that they were a normal, happy family, and she was a fully functioning mom.

Yeah. Sure.

“Yeah, I – uh, like them too,” Buck managed to say, wary of offering them too much more.

They didn’t deserve to know.

Buck sat down, gesturing vaguely at his dad, waiting for him to sit down too. He watched, as his parents exchanged unreadable looks.

“I don’t even know where to start,” his mom admitted.

An apology, Buck decided – an apology for all the ways they had fucked up his life, an apology for the hurt and the pain and all the ways Buck had never felt good enough in his life. An apology would be a damn good place to start.

But –

That was expecting too much of the two people sitting in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “About Daniel.”

His parents looked at him as though they’d been electrocuted, when he said Daniel’s name out-loud to them for the first time.

(A small part of Buck, the bad part, was glad to see their discomfort.)

“I can’t imagine what that must have felt like,” Buck continued. “To not be able to save someone you love.”

(Because – Buck had saved the people he loved, or he’d helped, at least. Maddie – Maddie had come to him and he’d helped her begin to rebuild her life. Eddie let Buck drive him to therapy, once a month. Even Abby, had been helped by how Buck loved her – and helped even more, in how he’d let her go.)

His mom looked like she didn’t know what to say – if she should thank him or scream at him.

“Evan.”

“Buck,” Buck interrupted firmly. He didn’t care, if they didn’t like nicknames – no, Buck was done, trying to play by their rules, trying to placate them and impress them. “Buck. That’s what people who know me – that’s what they call me.”

Buck had never liked being Evan. Evan – Evan was a lonely kid, who did desperate things to be noticed by two absent parents. Evan was lost. Evan had no direction, no friends – and when Maddie had left, no family.

Evan was someone he used to be – and maybe, in time, he’d find peace and reconcile the person he was now, to Evan, to the person he’d been for the first twenty-six years of his life, but for now… For now he was Buck.

Buck was the person who rose from the ashes of who Evan used to be, who’d taken all the broken pieces of the kid Evan had been and made them into something new. Something better. Someone better.

“Okay,” his dad nodded. “Buck. You have to know, we never blamed you.”

Sure.

But they sure as hell resented Buck, for living, for living when Daniel hadn’t. For looking like his older brother, for looking like their child who had died. They hadn’t blamed, Buck, but they’d made sure he’d known he was a born failure – born to save someone who’d died anyway,

Maybe they hadn’t blamed him, not explicitly, not in so many words.

But they’d blamed him enough for it to show in all the ways they hadn’t loved him.

“None of this was your fault,” his dad continued, earnest in his attempts to reassure Buck.

A few years ago – hell, even a few days ago – Buck would have been grateful to hear those words from his father. Buck of a few days ago might have even run right into his dad’s arms and been grateful for the crumbs of love and support Philip Buckley was offering.

But it was too late.

Buck didn’t think there was any way back from this – not in a way that would allow for him to have a real relationship with his parents, and if he was being entirely honest, he didn’t want to have a real relationship with them.

Because they didn’t know him, not really.

And they didn’t deserve to know him, to know who he’d turned out to be – because the only part they’d played in who Buck had become was giving him enough fucking trauma to fill a lifetime with therapy.

“I still wish I could have done more,” Buck said, honest in his admission. In the end, Daniel had just been a kid – a sick kid, who Buck was brought into the world to save, and hadn’t. And – in time, Buck would accept that wasn’t his fault. But for now, he sort of just wished that he’d been able to save his brother.

Life might have been very different.

His mom reached for his hand, Buck’s stomach lurching at her touch. “You were born to save someone,” she said, Buck’s chest twisting uncomfortable as he listened to his mom speak, listened to admit for the first time that the only reason Buck was alive was because they needed his genetics to save the son they’d really wanted. “And that’s what you do. Everyday, we are so proud of you.”

He’d waited twenty nine years to hear those words from his mom.

But they just sounded hollow.

If you asked Buck, later, what he’d said to his parents, how he’d offered his forgiveness – he honestly wouldn’t be able to tell you. He’d placated them with words as hollow as his own mother’s pride, and he’d waved them goodbye, and that was it.

Buck might see them again – when Maddie’s baby was born, maybe. He mostly didn’t care, not anymore.

“Hey, Buckaroo,” Hen’s voice was soft as she wrapped an arm around his waist, pressing her cheek to the sleeve of Buck’s shirt. “You doing okay?”

Buck nodded. “My mom said something,” he admitted, the bright rays of the morning sunshine soothing his still cold skin. “That I was born to save someone – and that’s what I do, every day.”

“No,” Hen’s replied was unexpectedly fierce. “No, she’s wrong, Buck.”

Buck gave his friend a confused look.

“No one is born for a reason,” Hen shook her head. “You were born – no reason, no big philosophical meaning behind it. You were born, and your parents reasoning for it is not your burden to bear.”

“She’s right, though – I do this job every single day to save people. Maybe – maybe it is why I was born.”

“This job, it needs to give you purpose,” Hen said. “We wouldn’t do it, if we didn’t find purpose in this job – it’s a calling, for every single one of us. But this job is not your purpose, Buck.”

Buck wiped roughly at his eyes. “What is my purpose, then?”

“To be happy,” Hen gentle wiped at his tears. “Oh, Buck, your purpose in this life is just to be happy. However that looks for you, your purpose is to be happy. To live for yourself, to build a life you’re proud of, with people you love, and people who love you, Buck – because we all love you so much. I love you so much.”

Buck wrapped his arms around Hen, propping his chin on her head. “I love you, Hen.”

(He wasn’t quite sure if he believed her, yet – how ironic, really, that a saviour kid had developed a saviour complex – but he’d find a way, Buck was sure of that.)

“Chim?” Buck looked at his friend, uncertain as Chimney suddenly stopped, halfway down the hallway from his and Maddie’s apartment.

“I need to say this,” Chimney shook his head, twisting his keys nervously between his fingers. “When you started at the 118, I thought you were just another cocky asshole who’d only gotten into firefighting to score hook ups.”

“Chim….” Buck did not need to be reminded of the person he used to be.

“But the longer I worked with you,” Chimney fixed him with a pointed glare, shutting Buck up. “The more I realised that you, Buck, have a heart of goddamn gold, and you were the real deal. You want to know what I tell myself, on those insane rescues where I get nervous?”

Buck shook his head, unsure.

“’Be more Buck,’” Chimney quipped, the phrase sounding well-used, and well-loved – something he’d said a thousand times before.

Buck kind of wanted to cry. “W-what?”

“Be more Buck,” Chimney repeated. “It’s my reminder to be braver, to never give up. Be more Buck.”

“Chimney, man, I don’t know what to say.”

“I love your sister more than anyone in this world,” Chimney reassured. “But I love you, Buck, and if my kid turns out to be half the person you are, I’m going to be really fucking proud to call myself their father. Because I’m already proud to call you my brother.”

Buck pulled Chimney in for a bone-crushing hug before the older man could say anything else. “Thank you, Chim,” he breathed. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“I do,” Chimney reassured. “Now, go and talk to Maddie. You two need each other more than you realise.”

Buck’s earliest memories were all of Maddie. Maddie, sitting on the floor of their living room in Hershey, playing Lego with him. Maddie, patching up a grazed knee. Maddie, helping him with his maths homework. Maddie, comforting him when he had a nightmare. Maddie – always Maddie.

Buck had been a kid, when Maddie had started dating Doug – and if he hadn’t been, if he’d been older, if Daniel had survived and been two years younger than Maddie and old enough to know, maybe they could have stopped it. Maybe Buck could have saved his sister from the hurt and heartbreak she’d suffered at the hands of a man who should have protected her.

Buck – he’d never be able to take back, what Doug did to his sister. And it haunted him, a bit – something he’d only ever admitted to Chimney.

And it haunted him more, now, to know that Maddie had given him his freedom, at the cost of her own, and her own safety. She’d given him the jeep, and put him out into the world, and given him wings – all while trapping herself in an abusive marriage.

All for him.

Buck closed the front door of Maddie and Chimney’s apartment behind him softly. “So,” he began, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his trousers. “Mom and dad came to the fire-house. They wanted me to forgive them.”

Maddie’s furrowed brow was answer enough.

“I did,” Buck continued.

“Wow,” Maddie looked surprised. “That must have been difficult.”

She sounded as though she was walking on eggshells, with him – and Buck hated it. Maddie had always been the one person who was unapologetic in the way she called him out on his shit, and he loved her for it.

“The thing is, not really,” Buck admitted. “It’s hard to feel betrayed by someone you didn’t really think you could count on anyway.”

Maddie looked downcast, at his words.

“And easy, to lash out on the person you know is always going to forgive you,” Buck continued, because that was the truth of it, wasn’t it? Maddie – she would forgive him anything, and there’s been times in his life where Buck didn’t deserve that, but he got her forgiveness anyway.

“I know that I hurt you,” Maddie began, eyes watering furiously. “And if I could take it back….”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Buck admitted, pacing the length of the kitchen, edging into the dining room. “What life would be like if I would have known – would I still be me?” he questioned. He’d been thinking about that a lot, actually – how different he might have been, if he’d known about Daniel, his whole life. If Buck would have ever came to be – if he’d have been content just being Evan Buckley, in another life.

Buck hoped not.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you would always be Buck,” Maddie reassured. Maddie – wonderful Maddie, who had accepted his preferred nickname with ease, only rarely calling him Evan in the years since she’d joined him in LA, despite Evan being the name she’d always known him by.

Maddie had loved every version of him, Buck realised – cute kid, to bratty teenager, to directionless college drop-out. He’d never doubted her love, even in the years they weren’t in touch.

That was family.

“Would you, um – would you tell me about Daniel?” Buck asked hesitantly. “I can’t ask mom and dad, but I’d like to know what he was like.”

“Yeah,” Maddie nodded. “Yeah, it would be nice, to talk about him again.”

It sounded like a weight had been lifted, as Maddie spoke.

Buck didn’t know what to do, what to say – until he found himself looking at Maddie’s baby box again. He had known, from the moment their dad had asked Chimney to get the box, that he didn’t have one of his own – and the why of it made sense now. His mom hadn’t gone through her pregnancy with him excited, preparing for a new addition to their family. No, Buck had been another phase of Daniel’s cancer treatment – and that just wasn’t the sort of thing you made a baby box for.

“Tell me the truth,” Buck inched toward the box. “I don’t have one of these, do I?”

“You know what – stay right there.”

Maddie didn’t give him a second to question what she was doing, halfway out of the room before Buck realised what she was saying. Daniel, that photo of Daniel on his bike, was still at the top of the box – and Buck couldn’t help but wonder, about who the boy in the picture really was, what he’d like to do in his spare time, who he might have become, given the chance.

If he’d had liked who Buck had become.

“I don’t have a box, but here,” Maddie said, holding out a plastic bag to him. It was every single postcard and letter he’d ever sent her, Buck realised as he took the bundle out of its plastic casing, every silly, cheesy postcard, every photo of himself, everything.

“You – you kept these?” Buck couldn’t help but question.

“You thought I would throw them away?”

Yes –

Yes, actually. Because of Doug. Because of the fact Buck had left her behind, with him. Who would want the reminders of a brother who ran as fast, and as far as he could in the name of finding himself and left you to deal with abuse?

“When you left Doug, you only had two suitcases,” Buck pointed out.

“And everything that mattered the most was inside them,” Maddie said pointedly. “No matter how hard it got, I always had these. I always had you.”

Buck wanted to cry. For so long, he’d been unsure if Maddie ever even got his postcards, if she still worked in the same hospital – if she’d just thrown them in the bin without reading them, not wanting to think about her loser brother.

To think –

To think they had meant this much to her, was overwhelming.

“We always had each other,” Buck reassured, Maddie tucking herself into his side at his words, gripping him so tightly it was if she was worried he’d disappear on her.

No –

Buck wasn’t going anywhere, not anymore.

Once upon a time, Buck had been desperate for his parents love and validation, but now – now he knew the truth. Maddie had always given him everything he needed.

“You’re going to be a great mom, Maddie,” Buck said quietly later that morning, the two of them curled up on the couch, Maddie curled into his arms.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Buck nodded, hugging her tightly. “I know because you were to me.”

(Explaining to Chimney that Maddie’s hysterical tears were happy had been interesting – but worth it, for the way Maddie had hugged him fiercely as he was getting ready to leave and head to Eddie’s, her words lingering in Buck’s head the entire drive across LA.

“You’re mine,” Maddie shook her head. “ _Mine_. Not theirs.”)

“I feel like I should be cooking for you,” Eddie admitted from where he was perched on his kitchen counter, Buck grinning as he remembered the firm argument Eddie had with Christopher a few days earlier, telling his son that he absolutely should never sit on counters. “Seeing as you’ve been actively traumatised in multiple ways, the last few days.”

Buck smirked. “I’m not keen to add enduring your cooking to that list of traumas.”

“First of all, rude,” Eddie stuck his tongue out at Buck, taking advantage of Christopher’s not being there to act like the thirty-four year old child he actually was, apparently. “Second of all – I’m serious, Buck. You’ve had a crazy few days and I don’t like that instead of me – I don’t know, comforting you – you’re standing in my kitchen making us risotto.”

“I made good risotto,” Buck shrugged.

“Buck, be serious.”

“Therapy has made you very annoying,” Buck sighed, checking to make sure the stove was on its lowest setting before he turned to his best friend. “I don’t know, Eddie, what do you want me to say?”

“Anything,” Eddie countered. “You’re not alone, in dealing with this, Buck.”

“I know,” Buck nodded, catching Eddie’s ‘if you say so’ expression easily. “No, I really do know, Eddie – I didn’t believe it before, but I know now. I’ve got everyone at the 118 – I’ve got you. Don’t I?”

Eddie’s smile was soft, secretive. “You do,” he confirmed.

“I know – I know you don’t agree with me forgiving my parents,” Buck gently stirred the pan. “But will you let me explain why?”

“You don’t have to justify anything to me, Buck,” Eddie reassured, and Buck knew – he knew, of course he knew that. That was how things worked, with him and Eddie – they understood each other, without needing to explain everything to each other.

“I know,” Buck reassured. “But I want you to understand.”

“Okay.”

“They don’t matter,” and to anyone who wasn’t Eddie, maybe that would have sounded harsh, but it was Eddie – and it was the truth. “Eddie, they don’t matter to me. I can forgive them because they don’t, and never will matter to me. And I – I could force them to live with that guilt, but how would that help me? They – I don’t agree with what they did, but they watched their kid die of cancer, Eddie. I couldn’t even imagine it.”

“I can’t,” the words sounded like they pained Eddie to say. “I can’t even think about it.”

Buck reached out and squeezed Eddie’s hand reassuringly. “It doesn’t justify it,” he hummed, tracing a pattern mindlessly on the palm of Eddie’s hand. “But I figure – they’re going to have to live with knowing they lost both of their sons for the rest of their lives,” he said. “What good is it for me to stay angry about it? To hate them from afar? They don’t deserve to take that space in my mind.”

Eddie smiled sweetly at him. “Therapy has made you wise, Buck.”

“I – I know I’m not going to feel this at peace with it all, every day I wake up,” Buck acknowledged. “But – for a moment in that factory, Eddie, I thought about giving up, and I can’t feel like that again, I can’t let myself, and if I stay angry about this, I will.”

Eddie was quiet, for a second, his brow furrowed with thought. “You’re not allowed to give up, Buck,” he said evenly, fingers wrapping tightly around Buck’s wrist, his eyes shining with tears. “I’m never going to ask you to stop taking risks, because its part of who you are, and God knows, I love you for it – for how you want to help people. But I am going to ask to you to not give up – because as much as the world needs a person like you in it, I need you more, Buck.”

“More than everyone else in the world entire world?”

Eddie’s voice was thick with tears as he replied. “ _More_ ,” he confirmed. “I need you more than that.”

Buck couldn’t stop himself, stepping between Eddie’s legs to pull the other man in for a hug, pressing his face to the soft, worn fabric of Eddie’s t-shirt, breathing in the familiar scent of Eddie’s cologne. “I need you too,” he mumbled, feeling Eddie’s arms wrap tightly around his shoulders, Eddie pressing kisses to Buck’s hair, his cheeks, his forehead.

“You have me,” Eddie reassured, pulling back slightly so he could look at Buck, his expression so sincere that it made Buck’s heart thunder in his chest. “In any way you want me.”

And God, Buck wanted, he wanted anything and everything Eddie had to offer him, and he wanted to give into that want and throw himself headfirst into wanting – but he also knew they weren’t there, yet. Their friendship had been teetering on the edge of something more for months now, living together, and literally sharing a bed for the first four months of the pandemic, bringing them closer than ever as they camped out in Buck’s loft while the world collapsed around them.

But neither of them were quite ready to drop off that cliff edge, first. Buck knew Shannon, and the grief Eddie was still processing, still lingered, and Buck’s entire world had just been flipped on its axis, so it wasn’t the best timing.

He just –

He wanted.

Buck tilted his head slightly, letting out a shaky breath. “Just – once?” he asked, knowing Eddie would know what he was asking for.

Eddie always knew.

Brushing Buck’s hair off his forehead, Eddie nodded, taking a few steadying breaths in, and out, before he tugged on Buck’s chin, pressing a brief, barely there kiss to the corner of Buck’s mouth. It was the tamest first kiss Buck had ever had in his life – and he’d kissed plenty of people in his life – but it still left his heart racing.

“You have me too,” Buck said quietly. “Every way you can think of, you’ve got me.”

Eddie nodded, quiet for another few seconds. “If you ever even think about giving up again, I’ll kill you myself,” his threat was comical, but Buck knew there was an element of truth to it. “You – you made me a promise, once. Do you remember?”

Buck shook his head, not sure what Eddie was referring to.

He made Eddie lots of promises – and he intended to keep them all.

“In the hotel,” Eddie said. “During my first earthquake with the LAFD. You told me, right before we climbed the aerial – that we go together. Promise me that again. Promise me that we go together.”

Buck nodded, not realising he was crying again until Eddie wiped away a few stray tears, the pads of his fingers feeling scorching hot against the clammy skin of Buck’s cheeks. “Together,” he promised. “I promise.”

“Okay,” Eddie seemed satisfied, pulling Buck in for another tight hug, ducking so his face was tucked against Buck’s, their cheeks pressed together. “The risotto is burning.”

Buck couldn’t stop the deeply unattractive snort that escaped him. “How do you feel about pizza, Eds?”

Eddie gave a dramatic sigh. “Christopher is going to be so mad at us for getting pizza without him.”

“So,” Eddie brushed a hand through Buck’s already messy hair, familiar fingers catching in the knotted strands, giving Buck’s scalp a soothing scratch before he let his hand come to rest at the back of Buck’s neck, thumb gently pressing against the soft skin behind Buck’s ear. “What happens now?”

Buck was quiet, for a second, before he finally replied, smiling sincerely at Eddie for what felt like the first time in weeks. “Life begins, I guess.”

**fin.**


End file.
